Disclaimer: All characters featured in this and future stories of this collection belong to the magnificent J.K. Rowling. I just play a bit in her world.
A/N: This is a collection of mostly short one-shot which pop through my mind. As the title suggests I'm trying to capture different moments which feature emotional or physical scars and are therefore mostly sad or tragic. Nevertheless, I try to pepper the collection with some funny or fluffy stories – we'll see how that works out. I'd love to get your opinion on my stories and writing and any tips would be highly appreciated!
A/N: I also publish these stories in German (my native language). Some of them will be originally written in English others in German and will be translated afterwards. Sadly, this doesn't always go as I plan so if you have any tricks on the matter – I'll take them all! (if anybody would like to guess the original language of the individual stories – you're more than welcome to do so)
Godric Gryffindor
His hands were still balled into fists. As if from far away, he acknowledged his bleeding knuckles. The color seemed to match his clothes oddly well. The wounds weren't deep, just scraped skin, nevertheless a single blood drop fought his way out of the area of his index finger. He followed the ruby red liquid with his eyes as it slowly blazed a trail down his hand. He pondered if the gravity would be strong enough for the small drop to reach the other side of his fist. As if in trance he traced his blood until the small quantity finally separated itself from his hand to fall into the depth. He didn't feel anything when the drop hit his leg and even though he knew where it had landed he couldn't detect a difference in his robes. Red had always been his favorite color.
How could it have come so far?
Of course he had noticed the increasing tension between them. It hadn't been the first argument they had had. But at what point had their discussions morphed into fights? When had they begun to hate each other?
They had been best friends. No one had been able to separate them, not once in all this time. Their differences had always complemented them perfectly. Only because of that had it been possible to create all this. But now he was gone. He had left him. Or had it been he himself who had sent him away? It didn't matter. There had been something final to their argument that he couldn't deny. He knew, he wouldn't come back.
Slowly, he stood up staring at the wall on which one could faintly detect the bloody tracks of his tantrum. Briefly he thought about apologizing to the building. Of course that was a silly thought. Only because his whole heart had been put in it didn't mean that Hogwarts had a soul.